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<h1>Zk | Poetry challenges</h1>
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<h2 id="july-1-2024-no-verbs">July 1, 2024 — No verbs</h2>
<div class="verse">A road trip. A dome of stress within the car,
and golden fields without.
A hotel room. Quiet, dark, cold against the heat,
floor to ceiling blackout curtains.
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Riverbend Ponds. A lace of trails and lakes,
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more than enough reflections of sunsets.
A return drive. Twice the stress, golden fields again,
all two days earlier than expected.
A husband (supposedly)
in a recliner (his)
in the living room (ours?)
in a house (mortgage: $3,106 a month).
&ldquo;Concert tomorrow.&rdquo;
Lazy. Flat affect. Quotidian.
Estimated time of return:
Sunday morning; the next day.
Monday. Silence.
Lots of friends down there.
Tuesday. Silence.
Worried&hellip;
Wednesday phone call: &ldquo;Hey.&rdquo; Eloquent.
Estimated time of return: never.
A locked door. The key — a hex wrench, black, slender —
now a decoration of junk drawers.
A bedroom. An echoing expanse of empty walls,
and golden fields of bare carpet.
A wife. Quiet, dark, cold against the heat, hidden behind
floor to ceiling blackout curtains.</div>
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<p>Page generated on 2024-07-01</p>
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